


Brush Strokes and Piano Notes

by AmalgamWriter



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Breathplay, Kinks, M/M, Musician!James "Bucky" Barnes, Soldier!James "Bucky" Barnes, Tattoos, artist!Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 15:51:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13080219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmalgamWriter/pseuds/AmalgamWriter
Summary: James “Bucky” Barnes, former solder – current musician, returned home from three days of dealing with the media to spend some 'quality' time with his long-term datemate and best friend Steven Grant Rogers, artist and animator. Join them as they enjoy their reunion.





	Brush Strokes and Piano Notes

**Author's Note:**

> So this little shortie was something I'd written probably a year ago, if not more, and just found it again going through my notebooks now that the Fall semester is finished with. In this, Steve is an artist and animator whilst Bucky is a professional musician. Everyone is human and fairly normal, I guess? If you can call being famous any shade of normal. The next chapter of TWTL(TRTD) will be up once the new semester begins mid-January, don't worry. I haven't forgotten about it! Let me know what y'all think. There may be a part two to this by the way.

James “Bucky” Barnes knew that he should be surprised when he got home after being gone for over three days and the apartment looked the same as when he had left but really, he wasn't. Bucky knew how hard it was for both himself and his long-time datemate to sleep alone.

When you practically grew up together, you get used to certain things. Like the warm weight of your best friend curled up in bed with you, holding you as you fell asleep. Which later turned into boyfriend, and would-one day soon-become husband. They were _that_ high school sweetheart couple, after all. The sickeningly sweet one that couldn't be separated and never broke up. Even if they'd long ago left high school behind.

With a sigh, Bucky put his bags in their bedroom. He tugged off the stifling clothes he was forced to wear at “work” and grabbed a pair of old, dusk grey knit pants that had seen better days but he refused to get rid of and his favorite black terry hoodie with blue camo on the sleeves and hood that Steve had given him when he'd completed basic, all those years ago. It felt freeing to slip into such comfortable clothes after spending three long days confined to wearing 'proper' clothing while dealing some annoying reporters and public.

Bucky stretched with a low groan before slipping his feet into a pair of soft, worn black flip flops before he headed back out the front door he'd just come through. If his wayward boyfriend wasn't currently in their apartment, there was only one place Steven Grant Rogers would be. Thankfully it was located within the same building, seeing as Bucky had no desire to go back outside into the downpour that had started just as he'd gotten in.

He actually loved Steve's loft. It was located at the very top of their apartment building. Warm from the huge windows and cool from the exposed brick walls. Art supplies strewn all over and works both completed and waiting for that last burst of creative magic to finish them spread all around it. All of it came together to make the loft a near perfect place.

Taking the elevator up, Buck stepped off with a small, secret smile. It didn't actually go all the way up to the loft though. For that, Bucky had to slip off the necklace that held a key he only ever took off to use. Not even to shower would he take it off. It opened up a door that revealed a short flight of stairs. He took it off and opened the door with a quiet chuckle. Maren Morris' song My Church was floating throughout the space with Steve's voice layering over to add his own unique style.

“Can I get a hallelujah? Can I get an Amen? Feels like the holy ghost runnin' through ya when I play the highway FM. I find my soul revival singing every single verse. Yeah, I guess that's my church,” came through clearly as Steve belted out the lyrics. It wasn't uncommon for Steve to sing while he painted, using the music to vitalize him as he worked. The songs weren't always uplifting but they were always ones with a strong beat and good tempo. After a small pause the music shifted to the next song on Steve's playlist. This time it was Bucky singing a cover of Luke Combs' song When It Rains It Pours. The song wasn't one to ever be released to the public. It was something he'd been playing around with in his studio and allowed his Stevie to steal a copy of the recording before he'd deleted it. Something which happened frequently.

Using all of that which Natasha had taught him as a professional dancer to sneak up the stairs silently, James leaned against the wall, just watching Steve work, waiting for his situational awareness to kick in. He looked deeply engrossed in a huge canvas painting of a Twisted Fairy tale piece that was nearly as tall as Bucky on a good day. A dark version of Hansel and Gretel from the looks of it. (The works Steve was most famous for outside his animation job at Pixar or perhaps his comics.)

Steve looked fucking delectable as the blonde stroked the brush almost erotically across the canvas in front of him, putting the finishing touches on the rotting candy house. It was dementedly dark, twistedly beautiful. James loved it.

Steve danced a little as he painted, belting out, “I was caller number five on a radio station. Won a four day, three night beach vacation, deep sea senorita fishing down in Panama. And I ain't gotta see my ex-future-mother-in-law anymore. Oh lord, when it rains, it pours!”

The dark blue tank top was tight on his lovers lithe frame, masterfully displaying the tattoos that their close friend Clint “Hawkeye” Barton had skillfully inked into his pale skin, moving sensual as Steve moved his body in a way that was both dorky and sexy. Bucky loved watching Steve paint. Sometimes for the sole purpose of watching the way those tattoos move over his corded muscles as he danced around while the brush glided across the canvas, dancing in it's own way.

When Steve turned to get more paint, the blonde saw his lover and let out a startled gasp. Thankfully he didn't drop anything. It was something that had happened many a time over the years. On the occasion it ruined a piece of work, Steve would make James pay. Not that James ever particularly really minded the punishment.

“Hey babe. When'd you get home?” the artist asked, his sweet Brooklyn accent coming through strong as he gave the musician a soft smile. There was paint striped across his cheek and streaked throughout  his blonde locks. It made him look absolutely adorable. Bucky just wanted to kiss the lil' cutie!

Bucky shook his head slowly in amusement. He would get his kiss soon enough, of that he was positive. “Oh prolly 'round about a half hour ago? I noticed it looked like you hadn't been home since I left though. 'm gon' ta get ya a damn dog just so ya stop lockin' yourself away in here while 'm gone.”

Steve snorted, rolling those gorgeous baby blues. “Bite me,” Steve teased in a cheerfully sarcastic tone as he walked over to his boyfriend. “You love lockin' yourself in your studio when 'm gone too, ya jerk.”

“Whatever, punk.” He reached out, grabbing Steve's hips and pulling him into a fairly tame and gentle kiss. One that said 'hi, I love you, and I've missed your dumb ass'.

Steve reached up, grabbing hold of Bucky's face as they slowly deepened the kiss, though still leaving it within the realm of tame. Of course, he forgot just how messy he'd been whilst painting so that when they pulled away, Bucky's face was framed by a set of ten perfect multi-colored fingerprints, leaving Steve with a fit of the giggles.

“Got any plans for the rest of the day?” Steve asked, head cocked to the side. Buck could damn near _see_ the wheels turning as an idea formed in his lovers devious little mind. Since he really was free, and Steve oft came up with the most interesting of ideas, he shook his head no, adding in a verbal reply to the same effect as well.

“Mmm...good. I haven't got to play with you and my paints in far too long Buck,” Steve murmured, nearly inaudibly, and then those long fingers were back on him, slipping under the hem of his hoodie as their mouths sealed back together once again. This time the kiss was more like fire, scorching with pure desire.

When the kiss came to its natural end, Bucky stepped back far enough to quickly peel off his hoodie, not leaving himself time to overthink it. Steve, Natasha, Clint, and his tattoo artist Wade Wilson were the only people that he'd voluntarily gotten topless in front of since he'd come back home from Afghanistan and the war. His right arm, side, and part of his chest and back were scarred from an explosion that nearly took his right arm, along with his life.

Once Bucky was topless, those skilled fingers were dancing across his sensitive, marred flesh. When he'd first come home from the war, James was afraid Steve would never want to touch him again, would look at him with nothing but disgust. The punk just told him that this was _no where_ near the end of the line and gently touched him with love until he understood.

Smirking at the blonde, James purred, “So what do you want ta paint on me taday?”

Steve's eyes were dark with a hungry lust as he prowled slowly around him, eyes roving to take his canvas in. As if he couldn't fucking paint every inch of his lover from memory, down to the smallest of scars. Still...it felt good to have that assessing gaze on him. James kinda loved it.

A bony finger trailed down his spine before sweeping to his good side to trace one of the several tattoos Steve had personally designed for him. Sound-waves that gently morphed into piano keys, in beautiful rainbow watercolor. Bucky's two favorite passions and talents of his; singing and playing the piano. The sound-waves actually translated into Steve singing 'I love you' so that Bucky would never forget it.

Knowing what his lover was tracing made Buck shiver. It wasn't very often that he put something permenate to his skin but when he did, it was _always_ Steve's designs. To James, his art was the only worth wearing.

“I want to paint the galaxy on your skin, kiss the stars on your flesh,” Steve finally decided, kissing the base of his neck before giving it a teasing little nip.

Bucky bit his lip, having to work hard to suppress a shiver the words wanted to bring. A painting like that? That meant painting his entire back a base color before adding shading and stars, other details as well. Each brush stroke feeling better than the last. Fuck! “Please punk? Ya know how I love it when you paint me.”

He felt Steve take a few steps back. He forced himself to suppress a whine at the loss but hell, three days of no contact was _hard_. He'd been so busy with shows and dealing with Stark when he wasn't working with Tasha that he hadn't had more time to call before bed. Now though, Buck was home and he just wanted his lovers hands on him.

“Take off your pants whilst I lay everything out, baby” Steve commanded of him. Those firm words broke through that little reverie of thought he was in.

James rose a brow at his lover. “I don't have anything on under these, darlin'.”

Steve just laughed a little and told him, “even better,” in a sultry voice while he worked quickly and efficiently to set up.

Rolling those smokey grey eyes of his, Bucky dropped trou, kicking them away. He'd known Steve since they were four. Body shyness just was not a thing between them anymore. Hell, it had only been a 'thing' between them for about six months or so during puberty where they had to get used to their new bodies and new bodily urges. After they figured that out, they couldn't give two shits when one caught the other naked (or worse).

Buck walked naked through the loft, around easels and canvases, statues and figures, until he reached the corner where there was a small utilitarian bathroom, a mini fridge, and most importantly, a fucking _bed_. With _pillows_. One of which he grabbed so he could be nice and comfortable for the next however long.

When he came back over, Bucky found Steve stripped down to nothing but a pair of skin tight burgundy briefs and Bucky's dog tags, that he had not taken off since the explosion and Bucky's subsequent honorable discharge. It did things to him, seeing that bit of shining metal that had been there with him through _hell_ , wrapped so beautifully around his boyfriend's paler neck.

“Ready for me darlin'?” the brunette asked with a little bit of a smirk, twirling the pillow between his hands calmly. If Steve was working on his back, he knew exactly where he needed to be, he just needed his lover's permission to go there. The loft was _his_ space, within it he was in control. James would never violate that.

Steve glanced up from where he was crouched down. In front of him lay paints in shades of blacks, blues, purples, reds, yellows, oranges, pinks, and whites, just waiting to be turned into a masterpiece. “You can lay down babe. I just new to grab a couple more things while you get nice and comfortable.”

James nodded, sinking down to his knees with ease before stretching out over the drop cloth, arms wrapping around the pillow that smelled _so strongly_ of his boyfriend. He crossed his ankles, making his body one strong line of waiting canvas. Taut from the position only. Bucky always felt completely calm and at ease in the loft. It was one of his few safe spaces since the war.

“That is perfect, beautiful. You always look so good like this. All laid out an' ready for me,” Steve murmured, his warm hand gentle as it stroked down his back. “Remember to breath through the first few strokes. The paint is gonna feel cool like usual at first.”

Bucky just barely nodded his head, knowing Steve would see it. He was already slipping into that space of complete relaxation where there was no need for words. Not subspace, not really, but pretty damn close.

Despite _knowing_ it was going to happen, James still let out a barely audible gasp at the first long stroke. His body stayed still and soft only from years of being in a sniper nest and practice though. Even if it was only just a base coat to start (this time at least) and would not matter if he flinched. Once his body acclimated to the cold though, the strokes started to feel fucking _wonderful_.

The soldier's eyes had long since slipped closed by the time Steve started layering on the details. Bucky was falling so far into his odd meditative like head space that when Steve started working on one of the planets over his ribs, he didn't laugh. No, he moaned, his hips shifting nearly imperceptibly as his body began to respond.

“Almost done baby. About five more minutes and I'll take care of you,” the blonde purred, the strokes continuing at an unhurried pace. That was Steve though. He refused to hurry his art, no matter what the canvas may be.

A few long minutes later, Steve placed a soft kiss on Bucky's neck, softly murmuring. “Time for pictures and then it'll be all done.”

That is all he needed to say for every muscle to go into lock down. Not out of fear or anything like that. No, he loved the photographs and he wanted them to be perfect so he made every little twitch stop, made his hips stop pressing the little, barely noticeable, strokes into the ground and just _wait_.

Only the air shifting around him and the familiar sound of a shutter clicking told him Steve was moving around, taking photos. Because when it came to his art, the shitty camera on his phone would _never_ do. Instead, Steve preferred his Nikon D300S (which cost him more than his first damn car).

“Perfect baby. Absolutely perfect,” Steve purred before a finger trailed down, tapping the top half of his left globe where he had obviously signed his name this time. “I kind of want to get my signature tattooed right there on your ass. Let everyone know that you're mine and always will be.”

While they both actually had personal tattoos for each other, they did not have something as personal as _this_. But the idea actually made him _really_ fucking happy. Such a permanent claim that screamed 'THIS MAN IS MINE'.

Bucky let out a shuddering breath and said, “I...would not be opposed to that. As long as I can make that same kind of claiming mark on you.” He paused for a moment. “Though I suppose my dog tags make a good start.”

Steve's body stretched out over his, ruining the painting that he'd just so carefully finished, but it did not matter in the least because there was nothing between them, and just _when_ had Steve lost his underwear? “Buck,” his lover moaned, pressing their bodies close together, lips against his ear. “Jesus that...that kind of commitment...”

“As if there is anyone else for me. Punk.” Bucky rolled his hips back with a soft whine, feeling the hardness there and knowing his lover was as interested as he was. Though it was hardly a surprise.

Steve responded perfectly, rolling his hips in tandem. “Jerk. Be good or I won't fuck you.”

“Unless you have some lube, you won't be fucking me at all,” Bucky groaned out. “And no, paint does _not_ count.”

Bucky might not have been able to _see_ Steve but he still knew that the blue eyes blonde fucking rolled his eyes at that. To be fair, they had only tried it once, and it turned into a bit of an inside joke between them. They had been seventeen, just learning about sex like that between each other, a tad bit drunk, and they had been truly desperate. Paint was all they'd had laying around.

Let's just say...paint is more stick than slick.

There was a rustling and the soft clicking of a cap being opened. After just a moment, James felt the cool touch of a slicked up finger tracing his rim teasingly, making him choke out a moan. James fucking _loved_ how much of a gentle tease his Stevie could be, while also still being so damned commanding.

Stormy grey eyes fluttered open to look at Steve pleadingly over his shoulder. “May I _please_ suck your cock while ya prep me?”

Steve added a bit of pressure to his touch until the tip of his finger popped in. They both knew they didn't have to go this slow. They had been doing this for _years_ after all. This was Steve's space though, and he enjoyed the teasing and the pleading. In this space, Steven Grant Rogers was in charge. It was the same thing when they were in James' studio. In the studio, James was in charge.

“You have been so good for me, laying so still for me while I painted you. I think that deserves a treat. Don't you, sweetheart?” The question was mostly a rhetorical one, as he moved so that his feet were facing towards Bucky's head while keeping his hips just out of reach, making him whimper while Steve's finger fucked into him nice and slow.

Bucky clutched tight to his pillow to keep himself in check. He didn't want to risk giving into the urge to reach out and pulling his lover in, pleading with him instead. “Please Stevie! Please feed me your cock! I'm so fucking hungry for it,” James moaned out. “It's been four days. I _need_ it!”

Above him, Steve smirked. He loved the little thrill he got when his lover begged and James knew it. It was why he did it.

It was also why, in return, he sweetly praised his lover in response to feed James' own kink. “That's my good boy. Such a beautiful mouth on you. Open that mouth wide fro me, darlin'.”

The fingers of Steve's free hand wove into Bucky's long, dark locks as his mouth obediently fell open, allowing the barely younger man to feed his leaking cock into the familiar velvety wet heat waiting for it. No matter how often they did this, no matter what position they did it in, James always made his Stevie feel _so damn good_ , ripping moans from his lover with a natural sort of ease.

Bucky was struggling to stay still. To be fair to the soldier though, he had nearly nine engorged inches of delectable cock filling up his mouth and two perfect artist finger's scissor open Bucky's beautiful pucker. Anyone who says they wouldn't fucking squirm, at least a little bit, is either a liar or bloody damn well **inhuman!**

“More!” Bucky begged, trying to press his hips back to meet the not quite satisfying thrusts of Steve's fingers. The simple word was muffled by the dick in his mouth, and yet, his lover still understood.

The man only chucked and shook his head though. The blondes own hips were rocking a bit. Not really fucking James' mouth but showing it was on his mind.

“Not yet, baby. Enjoy your treat while I work this tight hole of yours open. I don't want it to hurt today,” Steve hummed. The hand he had fisted in his lovers hair relaxed enough to scratch at his scalp gently. It said that today was about love and love alone.

Bucky mewled and nodded as much as he could. He used his eyes to tell Steve that he understood. Sure, they could both enjoy a little bit a pain with their pleasure, but he was definitely more than in the mood for this.

Steve gave him a loving little smile. “That's my good boy.” The hand in James' hair tightened back up, not holding him but gently guiding him while he carefully dribbled more slick into the soldier's hole so he could work another of his fingers inside; making him cry out with pleasure when he hit that spongy bundle of nerves deep inside.

James' head bobbed as he suckled on his lovers cock, using the tip of his tongue to tease the crown before taking a deep breath, relaxing his throat and pressing forward until his nose was buried in familiar blonde curls. As much as he wanted to, James was careful not to hum or moan too much, wanting to bring Stevie pleasure, not bring him off. This was just the foreplay after all.

“Fuck! You are _far_ too good with that mouth of yours,” Steve groaned above him. He pulled his cock out of James' sinful mouth and his fingers out of his beautiful ass, making his lover whimper at the loss of the full feeling, even if it was _no where near_ full enough.

A tender hand gave the back of Bucky's neck a gentle squeeze. “Roll over. I want to see you.” The command was soft but no less there.

James had no desire to refuse him. He craved Steve too much today to be a tease. His baby was moving before the other had ever finished speaking. He was throbbing with need, making him reach out to his paint streaked lover, pulling him in for a _burning_ kiss.

“Please,” James panted with need. “Please baby. I _need_ you! Need you in me! Filling me up!”

Steve flushed a deep red as Bucky begged; not because he was embarrassed but because he was _so damn turned on_. There was no sort of dirty talk they could come up with that would cause either of them to blush in embarrassment, no matter _how innocent_ Stevie may seem.

Settling between his lovers thighs, Steve lubed his cock up with a choked off moan. “Don't worry, darlin'. I'll make you feel so full. Spread those cheeks for me, doll.”

Clinging to Steve's shoulders, James spread his legs open wide for his Stevie. James' pupils were blown wide in lust. Every ounce of him was focused onto his love. The first press of Steve's cock head seeking entrance had his fingers tightening to a near bruising degree against his smaller lovers skin. A hiss of pleasure easily came forth as Steve inched inside of James.

Steve pushed into him at a nice, steady pace until nearly all nine inches were fully buried inside James' ass. “How are you _always_ **so nice and tight** for me?” his lover groaned, giving them both a moment for a calming breath before he started moving.

When Steve did start to move, it was like every nerve ending was alight. He gasped and squirmed under the other, trying to get more. More friction, more speed, more anything, more _everything_. Steve's hands clamped down tight on James' squirming hips – made sure that didn't happen though He was at his boyfriend's mercy, and _he loved it_!

Steve's hips snapped forward hard, speed increasing quickly. His breathy gasps and throaty moans were spurring on Bucky's near frantic movements under him. One of Steve's hands slipped from James' hips, along his chest, towards his throat. Fingers wrapped around his windpipe, squeezing _just enough_ to calm his lover down but not enough to truly restrict his breathing.

James gasped out a pleasure filled, “Stevie!” and the smaller man knew he wouldn't be able to last much longer with the heat coiling within his stomach. His lover was _far_ too good at this. James was not even going to need any outside stimulation at this rate. Particularly with the way Steve was hitting his prostate with nearly _every single thrust_.

“Fuck Buck! Feel so damn good 'round me! 'm not gonna last much longer,” Steve panted out, any sense of rhythm and grace lost to pure primal urges. Both his hands tightened slightly, nail marks forming along Bucky's hip as he truly clung on and dug in.

Bucky swallowed hard, mouth feeling dry as he nodded repeatedly, making heady sounds of agreement. “Please Stevie,” he begged, words breathless from the hand holding him. “Oh please! Can I come?” The hand on his throat felt restrictive in all the best ways. The trust he was placing in his partner in these moments was so absolute, it could be nearly better than the act itself most times.

James found himself coming undone almost as soon as the words left Stevie's plump, kiss swollen lips, telling him it was okay. The shout of his lovers name seemed to echo around them. Steve continued to fuck him hard, chasing his own orgasm.

It took only a few more wild thrusts before James felt his lover pulsating inside him with his release. His name always sounded so beautiful coming out of Stevie, like a shouted prayer and today was no different.

After, they laid together, a tangle of sticky limbs and rapidly cooling sweat, both working on coming down from their glorious highs. James was never as comfortable as these moments when they could just simply hold each other and _breath_.

It was probably give minutes later when Bucky finally had enough breath to ask, “Where is Ronin, by the way? Lil' shit didn't come ta greet me when I got back home.”

Steve sneered only semi-playfully at him. “Your evil little Roomba of **_Doom_** ,” he hissed, “was grounded to your studio with orders to clean so I wouldn't take a ball peen to him or to freaking _Tony_.”

James reached up and smacked Steve's ass with a (mostly) playful glare of his own. “You need to stop being so _mean_ to my darlin' baby bot.”

Steve just stuck out his tongue like the _very mature_ adult he was. “Hush. It is cuddle time. You may collect your demented robot in a little bit.”

Bucky rolled his eyes but he did comply. It was not like he could _actually_ argue about it. Ro was _completely_ demented. That was why he loved the freaky little roomba that his friend Tony had build him so very much. Complete with amazing flight capabilities. It got Ronin into a deluge of trouble on a nearly daily basis – James as well. Yet James wouldn't have it any other was. This was his happiness, his family, his heart, his world.

No matter how crazy things could be...

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you honestly think! It is important to me to know that y'all like what I give ya.


End file.
